Grace glanced around. There was limited seating in the waiting area, all currently being used. And while leaving meant she’d have to walk in these arch-breakers, it also meant she’d get relief soon after. “Yes.”
“I know a place nearby,” Garrett said, pushing open the front door and leading her back into the cold January night. “Do you like wine?”
When Grace said that she did, he launched into a treatise on what he felt was the oversight of Malbec. Grace listened with half of her attention, the rest spent navigating the seams in the cobblestone sidewalks that just loved to grab hold of stilettos and send their owners sprawling.
She should have paid closer attention to the destination instead of getting caught up in the journey.
“Here we are.” Garrett reached for the handle on the large glass door.
Grace felt her throat close. Elephants. She swallowed and forced a smile. “Great.” Only it wasn’t great. It wasn’t great at all.
Garrett continued his defense of Malbec as they stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind them while Grace furtively scanned the interior of the wine bar.
It was busy, but not so busy that they wouldn’t get a table. On the plus side, she didn’t see Owen working his way through the crowd. Maybe he wasn’t on shift tonight.
But she kept a close eye out as Garrett led her through a gauntlet of bodies to a table for two in the back corner.
“So you want to try the Malbec?” Garrett pulled out the tall chair at the table and made sure she was comfortably seated before grabbing the chair across from her. Definitely polite. “We can order by the glass, but there’s an amazing one they sell only by the bottle.”
“Sure,” Grace agreed. Malbec was fine. Her mouth was so dry, she wasn’t sure she’d taste anything anyway. But she was going to do her best. She smiled again and tried to think warm thoughts and not worry about whether Owen was somewhere in the building.
She needed to focus on Garrett, on her next step, not on Owen and what she’d put behind her. Luckily, Garrett was a good conversationalist, obsession with Malbec aside, and it turned out he was right about the wine. It was delicious and a beautiful dark red color that was almost violet.
Grace was actually starting to unwind and open up a little about herself. Telling him she had a younger brother and her parents owned a farm on Salt Spring Island, where she’d grown up.
She felt Owen’s presence before she saw him, just a little whisper of recognition that swept across the back of her neck and put her on high alert. He stood across the room, arms folded across his chest, watching her. And the delightful wine soured on her tongue. Grace nudged the glass away and tried to turn her attention back to Garrett, but her mind was caught in the beam of Owen’s gaze.
What was he thinking, seeing her here? She flicked another glance up. He didn’t look happy, that was for sure. A trickle of unease joined the flare of recognition. Why had she allowed Garrett to pick the location? She could have declined, made up an excuse for why they needed to go somewhere else.
“Are you okay?” Garrett had obviously picked up on her distraction.
Grace started to nod and tell him that she was fine, everything was fine. She stopped herself. “I’m so sorry, but could you excuse me? I’ll only be a minute.” She slid off the seat before he could answer.
Garrett, proving once again that his mother had raised him right, rose with her and helped her to her feet. Grace swallowed and thanked him. Her pulse was thundering and not just because Owen was wearing a suit. But her knees got a little weak when she looked at him again. The man knew how to wear a suit. He looked so tall and strong and... Grace shook the feelings off.
She rolled her shoulders back and managed to cross the room without wobbling until she stood in front of him. “Owen.”
“Grace.” He didn’t drop his arms, didn’t offer her a hug or a handshake or anything other than a glare.
“How are you?” It was an inane question, but it was the only thing she could think of.
She saw the flick of tension on his face. “I’ve been better.” His gaze tracked across the room to where Garrett was sitting and then back. “Are you on a date?”
It would have been easier if he’d been mad or indifferent. Why couldn’t he put on a brave front and pretend that he didn’t care? Or that she’d wronged him somehow? Why did he have to look sad? Grace pushed down the guilt. She was sorry he was hurting, that had never been her intention, but she had to do what was right for her and she shouldn’t have to feel that she’d done something wrong.
So she was honest. “I am.” She didn’t dare look over her shoulder to see if Garrett was watching them, couldn’t bear to think of what he might be wondering.
“And you came here?”
Grace could and did feel bad about that. “It was unintentional.”
A flash of anger surfaced and then disappeared. “I see.”
She didn’t think he did. “Owen.” Whatever she’d been about to say dissolved when he looked at her. His eyes were so dark and soulful. She felt as if she could see his whole heart in them—the heart that she was grinding beneath her gorgeous stiletto heel.
“I miss you.” His voice was raspy.
It pained her to hear it. Her throat grew thick, her breathing heavy with unspoken emotion. She reached out to touch him, didn’t even realize that was what she was doing until she felt the steel of his forearm under her fingers.
He looked down at her hand and then back up. “Can we talk?”
Grace was afraid what would happen if she said yes, afraid that she’d let him back in when she knew nothing had changed. Nothing at all. Including her feelings. Clearly, she’d been a fool to think she could calculate her grief as if it was a line item in her budget.
He put his hand over hers. “Please.”
And she couldn’t say no. “We are talking.”
But he was already drawing her away from her date, back to the far corner of the bar near the hall that led to the office, and she was letting him. It should have left them exposed, open to viewing from other patrons in the room. But he tucked himself into a small alcove, pulled her in behind him, and she was reminded of another alcove and another night in their not-so-distant past. “Owen,” she said again.
He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his face to her hair. “I told myself to stop caring, to let you go.”
Grace swallowed. She didn’t want to hear this, couldn’t hear this, but instead of doing the intelligent thing, she melted toward him. She’d missed him, too. His scent, the feel of his body, the sound of his voice. The way he made her laugh, how well he got along with everyone. But he didn’t want her enough. “I can’t do this, Owen.”
“So you’ve said.” His hold loosened, giving her an easy out. She didn’t take it. She would stay right here. Just for a minute. One long minute to get closure, to say goodbye, to lock away in her heart forever. “And yet here you are.”
“I told you.” Grace opened her eyes to look at him. “It was unintentional.”
“Right. Of all the wine bars and restaurants in the city, in this neighborhood, and you walked into mine.”
She opened her mouth to disagree, to explain that she hadn’t realized where her date was taking her until they were here and she was worried it would be awkward, would start things off on the wrong foot if she told Garrett they had to choose a different location because her ex owned this one. But she didn’t. Because Owen was right. Some part of her—not even a deep, hidden part—had wanted to come in, wanted to see him, wanted to be right where he was this second.
“Come home with me tonight.” And when he tipped her chin up, holding her close and looking at her as though she was the only thing that mattered in the world, Grace wanted to. It would be so easy to say yes. Easier yet when he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her
. Not hard and demanding. He didn’t mark her as his own, though she knew from experience he could. No, this kiss was light, barely a touch, and it left her lips tingling. A connection.
Her heart stuttered and then slammed against her chest. “How will that change anything?”
He stared at her, but he didn’t drop down on one knee and claim true love. “We’d be together.”
It was so simple for him. They would be together and that would be enough. But it wasn’t enough for her and she didn’t feel like going over this ground again. Grace didn’t need a dictionary to decipher the meaning of his words. She stepped back, chilled by the loss of his body heat. But she had to step back, had to make space before she threw herself into his arms and never let go. “That’s not enough, Owen.”
“Fine. Then marry me.”
For one long moment, she stared at him, her heart and her hope in her mouth. Until she saw his eyes flick away. It was just a small twitch but one that told her he wouldn’t follow through. “No.”
His hands tightened on her arms. “Why not? I thought that’s what you wanted.”
She did. With everything inside of her. “But you don’t.” And she wouldn’t do that. Not to either of them. It hurt now, but Grace knew it would hurt far, far more if she allowed it to continue. “I need to get back to my date.” She didn’t wait for his response, simply pulled away, turned on her heel and headed down the hallway and across the room to Garrett.
She heard his footsteps behind her.
“Grace. A minute.”
But she didn’t have a minute. She didn’t have a second, not if she was going to make sure the internal shaking threatening to tear her apart stayed buried inside. She slowed and flicked what she hoped was a cool glance over her shoulder. “You’ve had your minute, Owen, and I’m on a date.”
The crowd swirled around them, laughing, flirting, completely unaware that something so important, so life-changing, was occurring in their midst. Owen reached out and placed his hand on her arm. “I’m not finished.”
Grace jolted and moved her arm behind her. “I have nothing left to say.”
“Then listen.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes insistent. “Listen to what I have to say.”
She let her eyes flutter shut. It was easier to think, to separate her true feelings from the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside her, when she didn’t have to look at him, to see the yearning on his face. “What could you possibly have left to say?”
Hadn’t he already said enough? Hadn’t she?
But when he remained silent, she opened her eyes to look. It was a mistake. He watched her, his gaze naked and longing, and she felt her poor bruised heart warm. Even when she reminded herself that nothing had changed, that there was nothing he could say to change anything, she hoped.
“Give me a chance and find out.” He held his hand out but didn’t touch her. He just left it there, left the choice up to her.
She looked at it then at him. “Owen.”
“One minute.” He moved his hand a little closer, so she could feel the heat from his skin reaching out to hers. “I’ll even set a timer.”
Grace knew it was a terrible idea. She still loved him, and he still had the ability to send her life into a tailspin. She was on a date with another man. She looked at Owen’s hand again. The touch she knew so well, within reach. She clasped her hands behind her back and gave a sharp nod. “Fine. One minute and not a second more.”
She followed him out of the wine bar, back down the hallway and into his messy office. It was the first time she’d seen it since the engagement party. The realization surprised her. In some ways, she felt as though she knew Owen so well, but looking around this tiny room, seeing a part of his life that she’d held herself back from, she wondered. Not that it mattered. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
“I feel like I might not have explained myself.”
Grace raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I don’t want to lose you. I...” Owen ran a hand through his hair. “I care about you.” His voice lowered. “I need to know if I can make things right. If I still have a chance.”
Her lungs tightened and she was stunned into silence for a moment and then her self-preservation kicked in. “Exactly what are you saying, Owen?”
“I want to ask you this properly.” Her heart stopped. Just came to a screeching thud of conclusion. “I don’t want to live without you, so I’m asking you to marry me. Again.”
She started breathing then. “Oh.” Same old, same old. No ring. No getting down on one knee. No sweeping her off her feet with declarations of love or offering proof that he was anything other than the man who’d seemed to find marriage so distasteful such a short time ago. “I’ve already answered this question and I can’t imagine anything has changed in the few minutes since then.”
Owen stared at her, his eyebrows forming a V. “Exactly. Nothing has changed. I always cared about you.”
But if he thought that was the way to win her over, then he really didn’t understand the problem. Proclaiming that he cared for her was a start, but coupled with his assertion that nothing had changed? Grace wasn’t so sure. “I see.” But she didn’t. And she suspected Owen didn’t, either. “Is that all?”
“What do you mean, ‘is that all’?” His eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that enough?”
No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t even close. But she saw that he didn’t understand. In his mind, she’d wanted marriage and now that he’d offered it, she was just supposed to accept and give no further thought to why he’d done it or whether he’d change his mind again two weeks before the wedding. “Owen.” She unfolded her arms. “I don’t want you to propose because you’re afraid of losing me.”
Some of the tension on his face morphed into confusion. “Then why did you give me an ultimatum? Marry me or we’re done?”
“Is that how you saw it?” Grace was stunned even as she recognized why he might have seen it that way. Her mistake in not making things clearer, in not explaining her feelings. “I didn’t offer you an ultimatum. I wanted you to want the same thing I did.”
“And now I’m here, asking you to marry me, which is what you said you wanted.” She could see the redness rising in his face, the way his hands clenched into fists. She wanted to cry, but she’d sworn she was finished with that. She wouldn’t cry anymore, but would get on with her life.
“But you don’t want to get married.” Her chest grew tight and she felt her breathing begin to wheeze.
“How can you know that?” And he looked at her with such open questioning that for a moment she halted, hovered on the edge of a decision that had the potential to change everything. Except he hadn’t changed and he still didn’t understand.
She exhaled slowly. “Because you’re only doing this because you think it’s what I want. Owen, you didn’t even get a ring.” If he’d been sincere, he would have a ring. Even the least romantic soul in the world knew a ring was generally considered a key part of a proposal. A symbol of unity, forever unbroken.
He stuffed a hand in his pocket then and for one small second, Grace wondered if he was about to pull out a small square box and prove her wrong. He didn’t. “I want to be with you, Grace, and if you want to get married then...”
“No. That’s not how it works.” How it worked was that he was supposed to want to marry her, supposed to want to spend their lives together. “You’re not supposed to choose me as an alternative that beats being alone.”
“I’m not.” His hands once again fisted by his sides. “I need to tell you that I’ve thought about it and realized that I do want this.”
He couldn’t even say the word. She tilted her head and looked at him. Really looked. Peering into those deep, dark eyes to find the truth. “Owen, I love you.”
“Then say yes.” His hand
s unclenched and reached for her. She shifted, just slightly, just so he couldn’t reach her, because if he did, she didn’t know if she’d be able to go through with it. And she had to do this for both of them.
“I’m doing this because I love you.” Grace was glad her voice sounded calm and firm and not nearly as shaky as she felt inside. “I’m not going to trap you into something you don’t want.” Even though it felt as if her heart was breaking all over again.
“But you love me.”
She exhaled slowly. She only had to hold on a little longer, keep a brave face and act as though it wasn’t taking everything she had not to crumple into a ball as she sent him away. “Sometimes that’s not enough.”
“Why not?”
“I make a living planning weddings and I’ve learned what makes for a successful long-term relationship and what doesn’t. Despite what the movies and music industry tell you, it requires more than love.”
“Sex? Because we’ve got that part down.” He grinned, his innate humor shining through. Grace didn’t return the smile.
“No. It’s not just about sex.” Marriages that lasted, that stayed loving and supportive, were based on a multitude of things, a shared set of values and beliefs, laughter, loyalty and attraction. Marriage wasn’t just about choosing a lover; it was about choosing a best friend. A best friend you liked to boink.
“Then tell me what it is. Help me understand.”
But she didn’t have any explanations left to give. Either he got it, or he didn’t. He didn’t. Grace could feel her control beginning to wobble. She needed to get out of here. “We had a nice time and now it’s over. Now you get to head off into the sunset and think of me fondly.”
“Grace.” But he didn’t say that he didn’t want to go. He just looked down at his empty hands.
“You’re a wonderful person, Owen. I wish you the best.” She was going to go home and indulge in a long, hard cry, but she would hang on until then. “Goodbye.”
“I want my minute.” She blinked. She’d been in here at least five. “Starting now.”
One More Night Page 23
